


Best Laid Plans

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Magic the Gathering
Genre: (kind of), Attempted Seduction, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 01:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: Ral Zarek is in trouble. After two failed missions, Niv Mizzet has given him one last chance to prove his salt as a Nivix Guildmage. A chance that involves a little too much inter-guild cooperation for his liking.Tomik Vrona meanwhile, is also in trouble. If he doesn't do exactly as Lady Teysa asks, he will have the face the ultimate punishment - the disappointment of both his boss and his family.Luckily for our struggling heroes, there seems to be an easy solution to their woes. They just have to conquer their colleague from another guild through one very simple means - the art of seduction.





	Best Laid Plans

**PROJECT CLOCKTOWER**

Ral Zarek groaned and leaned his head on his desk. He’d had Ravnica at his feet, literally, and now he was left doing municipal work? This was all Beleren’s fault. If it wasn’t for him, and the whole shit-show that was Project Lightning Bug, he would be top of the guild right now! People would be doing as he said, when he said it, and everything would be glorious! First the Maze, then Lightning Bug, Niv Mizzet was blaming him for all those failures, him! This was blatantly their new Guildpact’s fault. But no, all the blame had to go to Ral Zarek. Everything had gone wrong because of Ral Zarek. Ral Zarek deserved all the bad press despite the fact he had worked his ass off and protected the damn mage from having his spark revealed!

He slumped over the paperwork, ignoring the complex array of diagrams and architectural plans. He was being wasted here! Utterly wasted! He was one of the finest scientific minds the Izzet, no, the multiverse, had to offer! And here he was working on some gods-damn architecture! The cheek! The nerve! The-

A loud knock on the door interrupted Ral’s internal monologue. He sat up straight and turned to the door.

“Enter!” he called imperiously.

A very unimpressed looking goblin poked her head round the door.

“Guildmage Zarek, his dracogenius-ness wants to see you.”

Ral leapt to his feet. Finally! Niv Mizzet must have changed his mind about giving him this awful assignment. Undoubtedly, something more important had turned up and he was being reassigned to that. He left his office and followed the goblin up several flights of stairs and up to the Firemind’s chambers. He couldn’t help but walk with a slight spring in his step. Surely he was about to get the mission he deserved.

Niv Mizzet was sitting in a circle of sunlight like an over-large cat, catching the afternoon’s rays. He had all number of attendants scurrying about him, carrying clipboards, wheeling trolleys and trying to fit an eight-foot-tall channelling rod through several doors. Ral took his place on the small platform reserved for those who were there to talk to the Firemind directly, and waited for his turn with the Firemind’s attention.

**“Zarek.”**

Ral stood to attention, hands behind his back, as tall as he could manage.

“Yes your Fireminded-ness.”

If a dragon could roll their eyes, Niv Mizzet probably would have at that moment. Ral could feel the frustration rolling off him like sparks from a transvoltic sphere. What he was annoyed about, Ral didn’t think he should ask. The fact there weren’t any severed goblin limbs about meant he either wasn’t angry enough to start eating people, or at least wasn’t furious enough to leave any evidence.

**“You have been assigned to Project Clocktower,”** the dragon stated, “**Do you understand the gravity of your situation?”**

“Yes your Parunity.”

Ral swallowed.

“However, I couldn’t help but observe,” He paused as Niv Mizzet shifted as he sat. A pair of faeries carrying a spanner between them hastily got out of the way.

**“Go on.”**

“I-I couldn’t help but observe,” Ral continued, “That is assignment is a little, well, lower-grade than my previous projects.”

The more he spoke, the more he realised how much of a bad idea this was. However, once he started, he wasn’t one to back down.

“Project Lightning Bug was classified as a Grade B mission, whilst my maze investigations were-“

Niv Mizzet cut him off before he could dig himself an even deeper grave.

“**A failure,”** the dragon stated, “**As, do you recall, was Project Lightning Bug. These were clearly too challenging for you. Thus you have been downgraded. Understand?”**

“Yes, your magnificence,” Ral replied through gritted teeth. How was his maze investigation a failure? He’d run the whole damn maze hadn’t he? It wasn’t his fault the thing had been created to be solved cooperatively! If it hadn’t, he’d have been Guildpact weeks before anyone else knew it existed! A small rain of sparks coursed off his clenched fists and fizzled onto the floor. None of this was his fault! He should have just damned those stupid men and let Niv Mizzet do what he wanted with tracking planeswalkers! He would be stuck on Ravnica for the rest of his days to keep his own identity a secret, but that wouldn’t be so bad if he got the jobs he was rightfully owed!

**“Another failure out of you Zarek will mean you will kiss your position in this Guildhall goodbye**," Niv Mizzet continued, **“I believe the Sixth District Sewer Network currently has some vacancies to be filled.”**

Ugh. _Gross._ There was no way he was ever reducing himself to work in such… Ral bit his lip as he felt his hair lift with the amount of static he was generating. Ral Zarek was not some grunt. Ral Zarek did not work in sewers. Ral Zarek was a gods-damn planeswalker and one of the best minds this guild had to offer! So why was he being treated like some good for nothing servant?!

**“I brought you here to tell you that you will be working with an agent of the Orzhov on this project,”** Niv Mizzet told him, **“They will be overseeing your work, your progress, until this project is complete. They will be compiling a full report of your actions, command and capability and I look very much forward to reading it.”**

Ral was shaking in fury. His whole career rested on the scribblings of some puffed up old fogey whose purpose was to look down their nose at him! How had his life come to this?!

**“Zarek,”** Niv Mizzet addressed him, his voice somehow turning even sterner, “**If the Orzhov find out the true purpose behind Project Clocktower, I will hold you personally accountable.”**

Yeah he’d already guessed as much.

**“Do you understand?”**

“Yes sir,” Ral sighed, “I’ll get started right away.”

Niv Mizzet did not offer any confirmation or approval to this statement, he simply turned away, back to whatever had been occupying him before Ral’s pitiful interruption.

* * *

Meanwhile, Tomik Vrona was standing obediently in his usual spot – by the wall within quick reach of Lady Teysa’s desk, but far enough way that she had the illusion of privacy. Not that she could really complain about his presence as she had ordered him there. She had requested this meeting, yet it had been ten minutes since he’d been shown in and she had yet to speak to him. As a Karlov, she could do whatever she wanted, however the silence was starting to grate on his nerves. From what he could see from here, she appeared to be pouring over some sort of architectural plans. A new tower for a cathedral? No, a clocktower by the looks of things. His knowledge of property law was almost unparalleled. If only she would just _talk._

It took fifteen minutes of awkward standing about before Teysa finally spoke.

“You are likely wondering why you are here,” she proclaimed.

“Yes Lady Teysa,” he replied.

“You are also likely aware of the joint project we are currently engaged in with the Izzet League.”

Admittedly, he’d heard rumours and nothing more. But that did count as hearing about it.

“Yes Lady Teysa.”

She steepled her fingers together and gave a small sigh. Despite how slight her reactions were, Tomik could tell she was annoyed at somebody. Not him, but somebody.

“This joint venture,” she continued, “Will require an overseer from the Orzhov, to make sure the project progresses smoothly and without any _snags_.”

They way she said snags also sounded like she had a person in mind. Gods help whoever that person was. If Teysa Karlov considered you a hindrance, you might as well kiss your life, or afterlife, goodbye.

“You see,” Teysa explained, “The Izzet are not known for respecting boundaries, be they physical, magical, or otherwise. They will do what they feel is necessary, no matter what common sense says otherwise. This has become particularly notable, as with this construction, if they dig too deep they are going to discover paths better left untouched. Namely, the tunnels.”

Oh.

Yes that wouldn’t be a great place to accidentally drill into. Tomik had thankfully never had to go into the tunnels but everything he’d heard about them kept him well clear of their expansive network.

“You are aware that your family benefits from that piece of infrastructure as much as mine,” She informed him.

“Yes Lady Teysa.”

He was indeed aware, not that he liked to think about it much.

“So,” she stated, “There is but one solution. I have had research done into the Izzet leader of this “Project Clocktower.” He has a familiar name, one _Ral Zarek,_ the impromptu Izzet mazerunner.”

She had made him stay as far from the maze as possible, but even he knew about Ral Zarek. How could he not? The Izzet Guildmage had destroyed millions of zinos of priceless stained glass and architecture! He was a menace to Orzhova! And someone was going to have to work for him? Dear gods!

“We know enough about his work in Nivix already,” Teysa commented, “So I had my contacts delve further than that.”

She slid a gilt folder across her desk. Tomik immediately darted across to pick it up before returning to the wall.

“Most importantly, his weaknesses. In this case, it appears that Guildmage Zarek has a libido as energetic as his storms and as ferocious as his property damage.”

Tomik had almost taken this in stride when suddenly his brain got stuck on the word ‘libido’. What did the man’s libido have to do with anything?”

“Sources,” Teysa continued, “Have ascertained that Guildmage Zarek enjoys male partners, brunette or blond, between five foot eight and six foot three, a few years junior to himself but with intelligence to match his own. Due in part to his own arrogance, and perhaps insecurity, he prefers a sexual partner who would take a submissive-like role.”

Tomik’s mouth had gone very dry. She couldn’t possibly be suggesting what he thought she was-

“We have identified Guildmage Zarek’s libido as the means in which we keep a firm control over this project. You will be providing him with all the proper incentive not to delve too deep into our practices or our tunnels. Distractions if you will.”

Tomik’s mouth was now slightly open. This was impossible! This was absurd! There was no way she could possibly be telling him to-

“You will receive your overseer documentation when you return home. Your parents have already been informed of what an important role you will be taking on in the name our guild. Of course, if you have _not_ seduced Ral Zarek within the first fortnight of construction, I shall regretfully have to tell them of my disappointment in you.”

Tomik felt weak at the knees. How had his career come to this? What had he done wrong? He’d always been perfect, absolutely perfect at his job. Where had it all come undone? Had he filed his paperwork incorrectly? Had he not raised the profit margins of their deals by enough of a percent? Was he not eloquent enough anymore? Had his handwriting become illegible? Did she have her eye on a better secretary? What had he done to deserve this?

“You will be meeting at the proposed site tomorrow,” Teysa informed him, “Do you understand?”

His brain was still working furiously, trying to work out why he was being punished in this way. He had worked so hard for her for so long now! He’d sacrificed his social life to be at her side, often putting off sleep, meals, even time spent with his parents! And this was how she saw him? Someone to floozy up to a randy Izzet guildmage? He felt like he was going to cry, shout, protest, do something, but all that came out was a tremulous:

“Y-Yes Lady Teysa.”

As soon as he got home, he laid out all the paperwork he’d received on his bed. The silk sheets were covered in papers packed with architectural plans and psychological profiles of the man he was meant to be seducing. Teysa’s spies really had been thorough. He knew everything from Ral Zarek’s favourite coffee (as black as his soul) to where he liked to buy his undergarments. (A place called _Man Palace_ near Tin Street.) Tomik let out a shaky sigh as he leafed through a six page booklet on Ral Zarek’s romantic and sexual preferences that leaned heavily to the latter. You blow one Boros officer under his desk and suddenly you were a master of seduction. Besides, how did Teysa even find out about that?

“I have a law degree,” Tomik protested, at his own reflection in the mirror opposite his bed. The mirror said nothing in reply. It wasn’t magical. That was the one in his mother’s study.

“And-and I’m amazing at property law,” he continued, “I-I managed to negotiate the Dimir out of three million zinos! I’m amazing!”

He shuffled up to the end of the four poster and pouted at the full length looking glass.

“I’m-I’m an advokist!” he exclaimed, “And a lawyer! And a secretary! I’m not just some floozy! Some scarlet man! I have talent! I have-“

He was interrupted by a soft knock on his door. He jumped, scattering papers as he scrambled into a more respectable sitting position.

“Come in!”

The door didn’t open. It didn’t need to. His mother drifted straight through the wood and came to meet him at the foot his bed. She was smiling but her gaze was concerned.

“Tomik, dear, why are you shouting?”

He sat down on his bed, prim, proper and cross-legged. She floated beside him as he replied:

“I’m sorry Mother, I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just…nervous is all.”

Her gaze immediately softened.

“Oh darling, what are you nervous about? How can we help?”

Maybe his mother could get Lady Teysa to change her mind? He didn’t think it likely, but it was worth a go.

“L-Lady Teysa has given me a new assignment,” he explained. His mother nodded.

“Yes, that tricky bit of business with the clocktower. We’re so happy that she’s trusting you with something so very important. Your father and I are the proudest parents in the entire district.”

Oh no, that wasn’t helping one bit.

“She,” Tomik tried, “She wants me to seduce the project leader Mother. She wants me to bed him as a distraction.”

His mother’s smile turned to one of pity. She didn’t seem remotely surprised, confirming his worst suspicions that Teysa had told her everything about this task.

“Oh it’s alright honey,” said his mother, running one ghostly hand over his shoulder. It felt like being doused with ice cold water but that was exactly the sensation he associated with parental affection.

“I know you wanted to keep yourself untouched for your groom to be, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices for our wonderful guild. I’m sure your future husband will respect the noble gift you have given to our cause.”

He nodded, colour rising to his face.

“There’s no need to be shy. You’re such a handsome boy he’ll no doubt be smitten straight away.”

She smiled at his supposed bashfulness, but she couldn’t be further from the truth. It was comforting to know that she still believed in his chastity. Yet Tomik almost wanted to laugh at the idea that he was waiting for his groom to be. An odd mixture of mortification and pride settled in his stomach, making him feel a little nauseous. It was clear that she had no idea what he’d been up to in the last few years. Not even that, she was clearly clueless to anything he’d got up to since university. It was probably for the best. You didn’t exactly want to explain to your mother how you’d lived every noble teen’s dream of losing your virginity to a sexy vampire. Everyone went through a vampire phase, dreaming up raunchy encounters in the back of darkened cathedrals. He’d actually lived his.

And then there was that gardener at university. Tall, muscular, golden haired and built like a statue to the paruns of old. He could lift Tomik up with one broad hand. Have him crying out with only a single finger-

“Tomik dear,” His mother interrupted his train of thought, “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that our family has been using those tunnels for such a long time. So much of our businesses passes through them, it would be a tragedy to see them ruined by those boorish scientists.”

He nodded.

This was decided then wasn’t it?

He was going to have to seduce Ral Zarek.

Time to seek out those extremely tight trousers again.

* * *

Ral was standing in the large square of concrete that had been cleared for construction. It had been sectioned off with tall metal fences, each of which had been wrapped in barbed wire. Against one of said fences was a portable cabin, the sort that was often constructed and deconstructed for field observation. However in this case, it was an improvised office, an office built specially for him. Ral pushed the door open, revealing the space to be mostly empty. There was a coat rack nailed wonkily to one wall, containing a selection of luminescent overalls, each emblazoned with the Izzet crest. At the far side was a dilapidated wooden desk with a swivel chair. A token gesture of scrap paper and Izzet-branded stationary sat in a cardboard box upon the surface. The three drawers constituting one side were empty. Ral wrinkled his nose at the crudeness of it all. Not even a coffee machine? This place was a hut compared to his office in Nivix. Oh how the mighty fell. Well, he had a few months to make this place marginally better.

With a deep sigh, he went outside. The expanse of bare concrete had been marked out with wide chalk lines to show them where they’d be digging. However, he wasn’t allowed to get anyone here to start working until he met the Orzhov overseer and got the go ahead. That didn’t stop him piling in the heavy machinery though. He stood back and let in a parade of mizzium plated diggers and tool-laden wagons, casting a critical eye over every one as they passed. He couldn’t afford any mess ups on this project. Everything had to return to Nivix in exactly the condition he’d received it, if not better. There was never any penalty for improving your gear, but he’d get fired for sure if it all got blown up.

The barren concrete square was soon transformed into a hive of workers, prepping their machines with the sort of love and care that could only exist between inventor and device. Ral put his fingers in his pockets and strode up and down the rows of sparking creaking devices. Some were clearly in need of repair whilst others looked like they’d barely seen use at all. He fixed a stray cable when the machine’s owner wasn’t looking before carrying on down the line. Everyone was itching to go, to show off what their precious children could do to this patch of dirt. However, there was nothing he could let them do without the presence of their stupid overseer. Trust the Orzhov to keep them waiting. Damned puffed up aristocrats.

Nine o clock came and with a dark shadow above their heads. Workers looked up, a few crying out in alarm as a large stone gargoyle circled overhead, gliding like a hawk. It finally chose a place to land a little way from Ral’s office cabin. Ral immediately strode in its direction, arriving just in time to see a figure in white hop nimbly off its back and onto the pavement.

Ral stopped and stared at the figure as they straightened their clothing and lifted a bulging satchel bag off their gargoyle's saddle. Ral waited, growing ever more impatient as the Orzhov fussed with his possessions. They were all ready and if they had to wait another minute then-

The Orzhov turned.

Ral’s mouth fell open.

What the hell? They were on a building site. A building site full of dangerous equipment and potentially explosive technology! And the Orzhov had sent him a gods-damn _choir boy_?

Not that the choir boy wasn’t easy on the eyes. He approached Ral with purposeful strides, light glinting off his gold-rimmed glasses and the little coins strung about his chestnut hair. He looked positively radiant, all white and gold and gleaming in the morning sunshine. Tall and slender, he looked like a ray of pure light had descended upon this grimy back lot. Ral couldn’t help but observe that his cheeks were dusted prettily in pink as he hurried across the square, elegant white boots clattering against the concrete. His eyes, wide and excitable, were the colour of hot cocoa, and just as warm as he identified who he was meant to be speaking to. Fixing Ral with a smile so sweet it could break any man’s diet, he was certainly a treat for the eyes. The closer he got, the more enchanted Ral became. He’d expected some wizened old codger and instead got the most delicious looking man he’d seen in years. If this had been anywhere apart from a building site, maybe a bar, or a club, he would be buying this man a drink in the hopes he wasn’t quite as chaste as he looked. Dressed in pure white, his clothing screamed “waiting for marriage”, probably like his noble mummy and daddy told him to. 

Ral was momentarily distracted by a loud bang somewhere in an adjacent street. It seemed the Orzhov was too, for when Ral turned back, he was still facing the source of the noise. It was then that Ral spotted something truly delicious. From the front, the man’s clothing may say _waiting for the marriage_ but from the back… Well, those trousers did nothing but cry “I’m tired of waiting, take me now.” For a man with the face of an angel, he had an ass of pure sin. Or at least it was making Ral think some of some very sinful things he wouldn’t mind doing with it. How was he allowed out of the house in trousers so tight as those? Could he even be wearing underwear under there? They looked like they had been stitched to fit the contours of his body so perfectly, he had to believe it all just slid on like a glove.

Finally the banging subsided and the Orzhov man returned his attention to the task at hand. He reached Ral with a slight bounce in his step, pulling from his satchel a gold-trimmed clipboard and a matching pen.

“Good morning Mr Zarek!” he said, “My name is Tomik Vrona, I’ll be your overseer for this project on the behalf of Lady Karlov and the Orzhov Syndicate. Lady Teysa hopes you appreciate her loan of her personal secretary for this most historic of collaborations!”

Smiling like nothing could please him more, he offered Ral one neatly manicured hand. Ral noticed that the tips of his nails were painted gold. He stared at them for a moment, wondering how one adult man could be so impossibly cute, when he remembered he should shake it.

“Yeah great,” he replied, trying to come off as uncaring and nonchalant, even as his eyes roved up and down the choir boy’s body like he was hiding something in the very tight seams of his clothing.

Tomik Vrona took his pen and made a few notes on his clipboard.

“I trust that all your equipment is in working order?” he asked, sucking idly on the top of his pen as he waited for Ral to respond. Ral stared at the glimpse of tongue about the golden metal.

“Yes,” he replied, “All standing ready.”

“Good!” Tomik fixed him with another smile that had his heart racing a little faster.

“If there’s anything you need from me, Mr Zarek, anything at all… w-well, from my guild I mean, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He blushed at his own choice of wording as he ran the tip of his pen across of his luscious bottom lip. Ral couldn’t help but watch the pen travel, wishing dearly to replace it with something far less appropriate. As he stared at the blushing secretary, a plan started to form at the back of his brilliant mind. So this was his overseer? This was the man who’d report back to Niv Mizzet to let him know how he’d done? It was hard to believe such power would be left in the hands of such a nervously adorable man. Lady Teysa had no idea who she had exposed her sweet little secretary to. He was clearly already overwhelmed by the presence of the quite frankly dashing artificer in front of him. And who could blame him really? Ral knew his looks could be overwhelming, especially to sheltered virgins like this clearly-repressed soul. This would be the easiest superior he’d ever have to impress. There was no choice really. Fate had presented him with the opportunity for a perfect record, all he had to do was seduce this divine piece of ass before him.

It was decided.

Ral Zarek was going to make this choir boy sing. 


End file.
